


let the human in

by BathosBardess



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friendship, Gen, PTSD, murder mention, natasha's relationship with the others, then it got angsty im sorry, this is supposed to be wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BathosBardess/pseuds/BathosBardess
Summary: The friends Natasha made along the way.(The Black Widow’s enemies’ first mistake was assuming that Natasha Romanoff did not care.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentwidow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentwidow/gifts).



> Pulled this off my tumblr, based on an hc prompt by scarletstonewood.
> 
> This was just...lying there, so have some drabbling about Natasha and the people she somehow came to love.
> 
> Title from "Human" by Monsters and Men.

 

* * *

 

 

_i._

Margaret Carter had abandoned retirement to recruit the Black Widow; Natalia would never forget the _naivete_ of trusting a Black Widow so completely-

“Is there any name you would prefer on your passport?”

Natalia had kept silent till then - her mind reeled with the logistics of it, _to grant asylum to a Soviet killer-_

_“_ Nat-Natasha-”

The elderly lady had nodded. The wrinkles around her mouth fought her poise - she made Natalia feel younger than her nineteen years.

Two days later she had helped Natalia evacuate her former recon apartment. It had involved the presentation of a new passport. Natalia Romanova’s ticket out of hell.

13 years later Sharon asked her to be at Margaret Carter’s funeral. Natalia - no, _Natasha_ \- had nodded.

She never showed up. She spent an hour burning a passport, watching the name _Carter, Natasha Margaret_ licked to nothing by the lighter flame.

-

 

_ii._

Samuel is an Afghan vet, a silent mourner of forgotten martyrs.

Natasha used to be a Soviet spy, martyr-maker.

Sam would say, _we get along_ . Nat would say, _I trust him._

Her own words surprise her - she doesn’t know this man! She doesn’t know his date of birth, his family, his background, his childhood, all the details required to infiltrate his brain-

\- but she knows that this guy had put his life and career and record on the line to help her when her world was crashing down around her, that he had trusted her unflinchingly from the very first second, and she realises that perhaps for the first time she had made a friend _unthinkingly_.

It warms her heart and chills her spine at the same time.

(it doesn’t help that Sam reacting to “Nat’s Spy Mode” makes her smile no matter how it irritated her-

\- “Are you seriously _cutting up pancakes into tiny squares-?!”_

_\- “_ NAT,   _why are there knives in your medicine cabinet_?”

\- “I was looking for your remote, _why is there a Baretta inside your couch_?”

\- “You hacked into my Instagram didn’t you. The video of you singing’s gone.” )

It also doesn’t help that every time Sam comes around her cereal cabinet is mysteriously refilled ( “the cereal company isn’t trying to kill you, Nat.”).

She pays him back, obviously - his car doesn’t repair itself.

(The first time he had visited her tiny apartment, he had looked _so disgusted_ at the cobwebs that she had finally taken a broom to them; she had returned the favour by guilting him into organising his wardrobe.)

(They were _friends_ in the purest sense of the word, and it broke Nat’s heart to fire at him.)

(So she broke him out of prison before disappearing; friends don’t say _thank you_ , after all.)

-

 

_iii._

Nat didn’t know Rhodey very well.

(Oh, she _knew_ James Rhodes _very well_ \- a part of her brain still had his high school grade sheet memorised, and the plates of the three second hand cars he’d driven before joining the Air Force, but she didn’t know _Rhodey_ \- his favourite food may have been a _very_ specific cheesesteak but God help her if she knew _why._ )

He had an odd sense of humour; even after so many years he still called her “Rushman” sometimes, a reference lost on at least half the room.

And sometimes she’d open a beer bottle for him if he struggled, and said, quite loudly, “Well, Rhodes, it ain’t _rocket science_.”

(Rhodey knew why Tony’s package was addressed to a Mr Stank, and that it had nothing to do with Rogers’s impeccable handwriting; he owed Natasha a drink for the laugh.)

(One of his favourite presents in the world was a scrap from one of his earliest fighters; it had arrived anonymously, a foot-long piece of twisted black metal in a box full of too many foam peanuts, and it had the Widow written all over it.)

(It was currently in a glass box hanging next to his graduation picture with Tony.)

-

 

_iv._

For a long time, Agent 13 was the epitome of what Natasha wanted her life to be.

(Barely 20, all Natalia had wanted was to be related by blood to Margaret Carter, yet here there was a young recruit who was _literally that_ and Natalia hated her for it.)

Things changed when she realised Sharon was not _afraid_ of her.

(Sure, she kept a blade up her sleeve and her left hand poised to pull her gun, but that was basic spy training. It wasn’t because of the _Black Widow_ , and Natasha felt light-headed with a rare sort of relief.)

(She should have called her a naive fool for trusting her, but hadn’t her aunt done the same?)

They were…drinking buddies. Or rather, Nat was designated driver because 13 was _weak as shit_ , tripping over herself three drinks in, often crying drunkenly into Nat’s shoulder.

( _What do you have to cry about, little doll, you have everything you will ever want-_ )

Sharon took tipsy selfies, happy selfies, funny selfies - pulling Natasha into the frame whenever she could.

( “Aren’t you a spy?” “Spies can’t Instagram?” )

Natasha was cutting where Sharon was not.

( “Do you _have_ to sign the Accords? There must be a third way-”

“You are not an Avenger, Sharon. I don’t expect you to fully understand.”

Oddly, Sharon had forgiven her for that jab.

“I don’t want to be an Avenger, Nat. I want to be Director.”

“Lofty plans, Nurse Carter.”

“Oh, we’ll see.” )

-

 

_v._

After the Battle of Sokovia, Wanda had to be carried into the bathroom, where the Black Widow seated her in the tub and helped her wash the grime off.

The Black Widow had held her hair as Wanda dry-heaved into the toilet.

The Black Widow had brushed the tangles out of Wanda’s hair afterwards, humming softly.

Wanda, shell-shocked, had let her.

Her first night at Stark Tower, Wanda had to sleep on a couch.

She had woken up in a cold sweat to see Natasha curled in an armchair a few feet away, fiddling on a tablet.

“Why are _you_ here?” she’d asked in broken Russian.

Natasha had stared. “Sleep, little witch. Ignore me.”

A week later Wanda was in the kitchen, just washing her hands, when she relented to a wave of grief and let out a loud, wet sob. One heave led to another and she was weeping over the sink before she knew it.

Natasha had appeared at her elbow and wrapped a warm arm around the younger girl’s shoulders and pulled her gently away. Wanda had leaned in, lost her balance, and fallen, almost taking the Widow down with her.

Natasha had simply pulled her back up with surprising strength, reaching up to wipe the girl’s face with the back of her hand.

“It does not do to cry,” she had said in Bulgarian. Wanda supposed it was the closest she could get to the Sokovian dialect. “Crying will not bring your brother back, little girl. You must be strong on your own.”

Wanda had wanted to lash out - _Let me cry! Let me scream! I tire of being strong!_ \- but she had gulped and steeled herself to ask, _What do_ you _know of losing a brother?_

Only she had looked down at the grey-green eyes and seen recognition: the Widow _did_ know, and Wanda didn’t have to skim her mind to see it - it was clear in the perfectly horizontal set of her mouth, the fatigue in her brow.

(Wanda learned that Natasha Romanoff held a heart of a giant inside her small frame - a heart that only grew with every casualty she had ever caused.

The Black Widow’s enemies’ first mistake was assuming that Natasha Romanoff did not _care_.)

-

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm bitter about there not being any mention of alexei in the mcu, and also any lack of sharon material.
> 
> I'm [ bathosbardess ](http://bathosbardess.tumblr.com) over on tumblr. Come say hi!
> 
> agentwidow is [ scarletstonewood ](http://scarletstonewood.tumblr.com) on tumblr. she makes the most gorgeous aesthetic boards.


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